


Cries of Prayer

by mybrotherharry



Series: Just Another Steve with a Sassy Brunette Story [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Typical Violence, M/M, Pining, Reconciliation, Romance, Sam grovels, Sam makes a hell of a speech, Sam pines, Sam worries, and other such things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybrotherharry/pseuds/mybrotherharry
Summary: Sam thinks and regrets. Steve takes on the Taliban. These two things are related.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Seaborn
Series: Just Another Steve with a Sassy Brunette Story [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1393501
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	Cries of Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the awaited reconciliation. We cross a few bumps before we get there. Note the 'happy ending' tag on this thing and rest easy. 
> 
> Blink and you'll miss it dialogue from the West Wing episode "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail"
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and encouragement.

Leo wakes him up at six am.

"Sam!" 

Sam doesn't want to get up. He is comfortable on Toby's couch, hugging his suit jacket, and sleeping with his shoes on. Pretending like his bed at home isn't cold and empty, and that Sam didn't let the best thing in his life walk away..

"SAM!"

Groaning, he sits up, "What time is it?"

"Five to six," Leo says, looking down at him with a worried expression on his face. "You sleep here last night?"

"I don't have a couch in my office," Sam explains, stretching his hands above his head. 

"Yeah, but you have a bed in your house, right?"

"What are you doing here so early?"

"I was trying to avoid the protesters," Leo explains. "Dupont is blocked, and I decided to get an early start to the day. Sam," Leo hands him his jacket and helps him shrug into it, "you should go home and change before work."

"I have another shirt in my office," Sam tells him. 

"Maybe you need to go home for a while," Leo insists again. Sam refuses to consider it.

Steve had taken his toothbrush, his running shoes and his dress shoes and all the other kinds of shoes that Sam used to trip over every evening. The whole apartment feels empty, and Sam refuses to go back to that place until he can find Steve and.... grovel. Cry pityingly into his broad chest. Beg for him to come back. 

Sam has several such creative ideas, and all of them involve a great degree of crying.

"What protesters?" Sam asks instead, ignoring Leo's suggestion.

"There is a police cordon around the National Geographic Society," Leo explains.

"Who has a problem with the _National Geographic Society_?"

"That's exactly what I want to know," Leo nods. "Sam, go home, would you? You look terrible, you slept in your office, and I frankly don't think you will be of much use like this to Toby today. Go home."

"Why?"

"'Cause I think you're putting too much faith in the magical powers of a new shirt."

"I'll be fine," Sam says, digging through his desk drawer for a pen.

The silence stretches in a worrying manner, so Sam looks up again to see Leo staring at him with worry. 

"What?" Sam asks.

"Have you tried apologizing?"

That brings Sam up short. "You know?!" he asks, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

"Sam," Leo shakes his head, "I have told you before that when it comes to my staff, you better consider me to be omnipotent. Now, have you tried apologizing?"

Sam falls into his chair, his head in his hands, "He won't take my calls," he mumbles into his hands.

"Flowers?"

"He isn't that kinda person," Sam points out. "He would consider it wasteful."

"Screwed up big, huh?"

"I don't think he will forgive me for this," Sam looks up at him, taking off his glasses.

"He is a national icon," Leo says. "They're big on liberty, thanksgiving and forgiveness."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Just apologize, Sam," Leo tells him. "Be honest, and let him yell at you for a bit. And go home, please, before the President spots you and asks for backstory."

Sam shudders, considering that possibility and decides to go home for a shower.

*  
  
The next day, Toby finds him in his office, head thumping loudly and repeatedly on his desk.

"Careful," Toby mutters, coming inside the office and shutting the door behind him, "that's valuable merchandise."

"My brain is stupid," Sam says with enough self-disgust to fell a man.

"I meant the desk," Toby retorts. "Taxpayer money. Sam, stop."

Sam sits up and glares at him. But given that his eyes are red-rimmed, it only manages to look like Bambi's angry stare. "Toby, you don't know what I did. You don't know - you won't believe, God, Toby, I did something stupid."

"I have no difficulty whatsoever in believing that," Toby says, thumping a stack of papers on Sam's desk. "That's just a Tuesday for you. Please tell me there are no hookers involved this time."

Sam considers that, and recalibrates. "Never mind. What did you need?"

"My staffers are writing me incoherent memos," Toby sounds like he is done with humanity today, which is how he sounds every day, "All I wanted was a copy of the constitution, and she asks me _if it is still in print_."

"The US Constitution?"

"No, the Constitution of Fantasia, what the hell, SAM!"

"Relax," Sam gets up and walks to his bookshelf, "here, I have a copy." He hands Toby the book. 

"You have a copy?"

"I am a lawyer," Sam answers. "What lawyer worth his salt doesn't own a copy of the Constitution?"

"This says third edition," Toby flips the page, "Jesus, how old is this thing?"

"It was a gift from the President."

Toby closes the book in a huff. "He's never given me a copy of the Constitution from the nineteenth century," he says, sounding put out about that.

"It's probably because you keep going into his office and arguing with him," Sam points out, resuming banging his head on his desk.

"That's probably it," Toby agrees. "Sam," he stops at the doorway, looking back at him, "what's the stupid thing you did?"

"It's - it's nothing."

"Sam."

"I am fixing it," Sam promises, even though the reason he is in this position is because he didn't tell people about their relationship.

"I am here if you want to talk," Toby says, and when Sam raises astonished eyebrows at him, Toby hastily adds, "Or something like that."

"Okay."  
  
*  
  
Sam's called into work at two am. 

It isn't surprising. Nor is it the first time he's been summoned out of bed to do the people's work. But the timing is odd. Politically, there's nothing major or unexpected going on, or Josh would have heard. Hence it must be either natural disaster, or national security. 

He really hopes it's not national security.

Assuming that he wouldn't be able to come back home for hours, he takes a quick shower. While easing into his suit, he dials CJ.

"I don't know the details yet," she says in lieu of hello. 

"CJ -"

"But if they called me in, and called you in, I am guessing there's going to be spin and speech writing in our future."

"It's weird for us to get called in on national security, right? It won't be national security," Sam remarks, giving voice to the nagging worry at the back of his head. He _really_ wants to see Steve.

"Sam, let's not hypothesize until we have all the information," CJ says in a long suffering voice. "Come on, this is not our first rodeo."

It really isn't, but CJ doesn't yet know the reason for Sam's personal interest in the developing crisis.

After CJ hangs up on him, he pulls up an unfamiliar contact and dials again.

"Sam," Pepper Potts greets him warmly, "How are you?"

"I am alright, Pepper," he answers her. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"At two am?" she laughs. "I can't sleep when Tony's out on a mission."

"So there IS a mission?"

A short pause before he hears her inhale, "If you haven't been briefed yet," she explains, "I am certain that you will be soon."

Sam swallows around the lump in his throat, "Yeah," he says, sitting down for a minute on the edge of his bed, pulling Steve's pillow on to his lap. The thing still smells like him - that sweet masculine scent, and his shampoo. Sam hasn't slept in this bed since Steve left. "It's just - I am not - I am new to this."

"Welcome to being an S.O. to an Avenger," she laughs, "It's not easy. We cope by stress eating and wine drinking."

"I am not sure if I am still an S.O.," Sam confesses, biting down on a clenched fist. 

Pepper is silent on the phone for a moment, before she replies, "I know you care about him, Sam," she says. "It's natural to want to know if he is alright. Now, if Tony's frustrated ranting is to be believed, missions rarely go according to plan. JARVIS is connected to the Iron Man armor, and is on comms. If Steve were badly hurt, I would have heard."

Sam allows himself to take a relieved, deep breath. "Thank you," he says, truly grateful.

"I promise I'll let you know if that changes," she promises. 

"Miss Potts," he says, resting his forehead on a palm. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

"It's my pleasure, Sam," she says sincerely. "We must have each other's backs."

*  
He barely remembers how he got to work. He knows he locked his apartment, and that he must have gotten in his car and driven to the White House. 

Once he gets to his office, he only has time to shed his jacket and briefcase before Ginger summons him.

"Leo wants you in his office," she informs him. Sam grabs a legal pad and makes his way over.

He spots a contingent of officers in military dress in the hallway outside the Roosevelt Room. Whatever is happening must be big.

Leo's office is crowded. CJ, Josh, Toby are all gathered around the desk, looking through a folder lying open on it. Standing beside Leo is Phil Coulson.

"Agent Casper," Sam smiles, gratified to see his friend. If Phil is here and not running the op, it mustn't be all hands on deck.

"Mr. Seaborn," Phil says formally, the way he always does when he comes to the White House on business.

"Good, you're here," Leo calls, "Everybody, you all know Agent Mike Casper? Right. Seventy two hours ago, the Avengers were called to covertly infiltrate a Taliban hideout in Balochistan, and retrieve seventy two prisoners of war. The POWs belong to eight different nations, including the US, UK, Taiwan, Hungary and India."

Sam swallows. Steve was fighting the Taliban? He takes a look around the room. Clearly, Josh and Toby knew already. This briefing was primarily for Sam and CJ.

"The Avengers aren't a hostage negotiation team," CJ points out, anticipating the line of questioning from the press. "Who made the choice to send them in?"

"The Taliban did," Leo answers. "They agreed on a conditional release of the female prisoners if Captain America turned himself in."

Sam collapses into the nearest chair, setting the pad quietly on Leo's desk.

_No, no, no, no..._

Four days ago, Sam had yelled at Steve about boundaries. Aware of his own growing attachment to Steve, and terrified of it becoming realer by the minute, he had told Steve to stop pushing him. They had argued about stupid shoes on Sam's fucking floor.

And now, Sam might never see Steve again. He might not get to apologize. He might never kiss him again..

"SHIELD ran several simulations with the Avengers," Phil speaks up. "Captain Rogers is aware of likely plans of action to take. The rest of the Avengers are playing along, set up in a US army base fifty two miles north. Twelve hours ago, the President gave the order for them to move and infiltrate."

"And Steve?" Sam asks, unable to form a complete sentence.

"The Avengers have reason to believe that Captain Rogers is alive, and is sticking to the agreed upon strategy," Phil answers him.

"Why tell us now?" CJ asks.

Sam puts his head in his hands, unable to process anything beyond 'Captain Rogers is alive'. He can't remember the last time he kissed Steve. Why can't he remember that? He should be able to. They had fallen asleep in Sam's bed four nights ago. Sam had yelled at him about leaving his shoes all over the damn floor. It's such a stupid, silly thing to remember, and yet, Sam can't remember their last kiss.

"If Taliban M.O. is to be believed, our intelligence experts suggest that they are likely to release a video, or some kind of manifesto on the internet within six hours. It will hit American press in the next hour or so," Leo explains. "Sam," he calls, his voice surprisingly gentle. "The President wants to make remarks in the Blue Room at eight pm tonight. We need several drafts for every possible course of action."

Sam feels a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Leo's worried glance.

"Are you up for this?"

Sam swallows, but nods.

"I am sorry, what is going on?" Josh asks, his tone impatient.

Leo looks at him, leaving the ball in his court. God, Sam can't believe he worried about his team finding out. It is such in insignificant detail in light of the larger fear on his shoulders.

"I am dating Steve," he says, looking at his shoes. "Captain Rogers, I mean. I am seeing him. At least, I _was_. I am pretty sure he dumped me, and it's my fault. We were at home, and I was an ass - I don't remember what I said to him. I think we argued about his stupid shoes -" 

He is shaking. He can't stop his hands from shaking. 

Someone - he thinks it's Toby - presses a styrafoam cup of something warm into his hand. He takes a sip. CJ and Josh exchange a look behind Toby, and turn back to Sam worriedly.

"Leo," Toby says. "I will take over the President's remarks."

Sam looks up at that. "I can do it," he says, but it sounds weak to even his own ears. Can he really write a speech describing _how Captain America gave his life for_ _this nation?_ Can he actually do it?

"Sam," Toby interjects. "You can sit on the couch in my office and watch me type, okay? Or you can edit some of the stuff in my queue. I am not sending you home, cause I know you'll drive yourself crazy, so you can just stay with me, okay buddy?"

He blinks away the wetness in his eyes. "Yeah," he croaks out. "Yeah, thank you. Yeah."

"Alright," Leo says to them. "CJ, I want you to put Agent Casper in the briefing room if necessary. Speak to him, and get ready to brief in forty five. Toby, Josh, you know what to do. And guys," he says to them with a tone of finality, "Lay off Sam until things settle down."

Sam sees people rearrange themselves in his periphery, but neither Leo nor Phil make any move to displace him out of the chair. Phil picks up the folder, and crouches down on the floor to look at Sam.

"If things were really dire," he tells him. "I would have heard. There isn't any reason to panic yet, okay?"

Sam nods. "Okay."

"Captain Rogers is really good," Phil continues. "The Avengers have dealt with worse. They will be fine."

"Phil," Sam looks at the man, uncaring of Secret Service codenames or the intelligence industry's need to keep aliases, "Phil. He has to come back. Please."

"He will. Come on, I will walk you to Mr. Ziegler's office on my way to see CJ."

Sam picks up his legal pad, nods to Leo and makes his way back, brushing shoulders with Phil Coulson.  
  
*  
  
It's the worst twenty hours of his life.

Twenty hours of sitting in Toby's office, editing memos to the Office of Management and Budget about refurbishing plumbing and electric lines in the White House. It's repetitive and mundane work, and Sam can see why Toby's given him a task that the most junior of their interns can do. 

Sam barely has the attention span to do anything more complicated.

People file in and out of the room. Ainsley comes by at lunch time to give him a hug and a cookie. It tastes like mud in his mouth but he swallows it down anyway, for want of anything else to do. Josh and CJ sit with him for a while, neither of them asking any questions, but just letting him feel settled and comfortable in their company. 

There is no news for twenty hours. He sees both Fitzwallace and Coulson slip into the Oval several times during the day, but nobody tells Sam _anything_.

At four pm, Pepper Potts sends him a text message. _"Nothing yet,"_ it reads. _"No news is good news."_

Sam spends the day lost in his own head, trying to remember when Steve Rogers became so important to him. They have dated for eight months now, slept together for seven. Steve became such a huge part of his life, and Sam had taken it for granted. He had taken everything for granted, that he would always come home to a kitchen smelling of Steve's cooking, of Steve greeting him with a hug and a kiss, and of the Avengers making pests of themselves all over Sam's living room.

 _If you come back_ , Sam bargains with the Steve in his head, golden in the sunlight and smiling, _if you come back, I am going to tell you that I love you. I am going to_ _apologize, and beg until you agree to be with me again. You can come back and cook in my kitchen. Your shoes can be all over my floor and I won't complain **once**. __Please, please, please just come back._

He puts his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Toby sits down on the couch beside him.

"I am not good at this comforting thing," he begins, fiddling with his tie.

Sam looks up from his hands, and stares at the man. "You don't need to comfort me."

"Sam," Toby says. "Don't be an idiot. Of course I need to comfort you."

He lets out an involuntary chuckle. "You are clearly so good at it."

"Sam," Toby asks, "what can I do to help?"

"Nothing, Toby," he answers truthfully. "Just tell me if you get any news. Please."

"I will," Toby swears, "May I ask you something?"

Sam nods, so Tony continues, "If I ever made you feel like - I'm wondering, Sam - I am racking my brain to understand if I ever gave you the impression that you couldn't confide in me about -"

"That's not what this is about, Toby," Sam cuts him off. 

"Are you sure? Because you're going to pieces over this man, and clearly this is a serious relationship, and the people you work closely with had no idea -"

"That's not what this is about!"

"I know I didn't react very well when it was Laurie," Toby admits, and on any other day, Sam would cherish the confession. "But I want you to know that I have no objection to you dating a man, and I apologize if I ever made you feel like you couldn't come to me with this."

"Thank you," Sam says, terribly moved. Toby is his hero, in many ways. Josh has Leo, CJ has the President but Sam - Sam's always gone for Toby's quiet intelligence, his unapologetic wisdom, and his immovable righteousness. Toby's the cool big brother Sam's always wanted. Getting Toby's approval means the world to him. "I am sorry   
I didn't tell you sooner. The truth is, we were enjoying being together, and as more time passed, the harder it got to tell people. It's what we were fighting about, just before he left." He rubs his eyes with his palms. "God, I made him think I am ashamed of him or something."

"I think the President is gonna want to talk to you about breaking Captain America's heart," Toby says lightly, trying to draw out a chuckle. "It's going to be okay, Sam."

"He went to fight the Taliban. Alone."

"He is an Avenger," Toby assures him. "They have handled worse. Sam, I know you don't want to think about this right now, but at some point, CJ's going to want to do a press release."

"I want him to come home," Sam says, the words almost a prayer. "Everything else is just - details."

"He's going to come back," Toby tells him the way he says most things he believes fervently. "The universe isn't that cruel, Sam. There's no way the President doesn't get to harass the man about World War II and FDR."

"Oh no," Sam groans into his hands.

"Oh yes," Toby continues gleefully. "He's going to invite the pair of you to a double date. You should go. The First Lady is usually nice enough to slip you some whisky under the table."

"Have a lot of double dates with the first couple, do you, Toby?"

"Just the one time," he smirks. "The First Lady banned future invitations after the President nearly lost the state of Texas to Andy over a bet about George Washington trivia."

Sam is completely unsurprised by that.  
  
*  
  
At the close of the twenty third hour, Sam is curled up on Toby's couch, using his suit jacket as a pillow and trying to get some shut eye. The office is empty, and Sam is trying to hold on to the image of Steve smiling at him, burned as it is to the back of his eyelids.

"Wilson sent me to check on you."

Sam sits up suddenly, startled into action by the voice. The figure is crouched in the shadows of Toby's dimly lit office, the door shut behind him.

Sam presses a hand to his chest, trying to calm his breathing. "You need to stop doing that!"

Nothing.

Barnes just glares at him, the weight of his gaze dangerous and _murdery_. The silence stretches on in the office.

"Do you have my apartment bugged? How much did you hear?" Sam asks him, and gets a full minute of glare-filled staring for his troubles. 

"You can stop now," Sam tells him, fidgeting. "Please."

Barnes pulls a knife out of his pocket and rubs it on the hem of his shirt.

"Yes, I get it," Sam groans. "You are angry with me. **_I_ **am angry with me. I didn't mean to hurt him."

Barnes put the knife on Sam's desk.

"I know I screwed up, okay? I just want him to come back."

The glare gets particularly Winter-Soldiery.

"I will start groveling the minute he lands."

Barnes picks up the knife and puts it back in his pocket, sitting back in the visitor's chair, seemingly satisfied for now. Sam shakes his head, trying to reconcile that he got out of an almost-tame shovel talk situation with the Winter Soldier relatively unscathed.

"Should I be worried about how easily you're able to waltz into the West Wing of the White House?" he asks, worried. "Aren't several government agencies looking for you?"

"I made a seven minute window," Barnes tells him. "How you holding up?"

Sam ignores the question. "Where is he? Why aren't you with him?"

"I can't actually cross the border, pretty boy," Barnes mutters. His tone implies that he tried but failed. "Besides, the Avengers are with him. Even Stevie can't get into too much trouble with that lot at his back."

"But he isn't with them," Sam whines. "They told me he turned himself in. The Taliban has him."

"Stevie's tougher than he looks," Barnes says. "And I am certain that at this point, he has the Taliban more than the other way around. Stark let me see their strategy. It's a good one. He'll be home in a day."

"How are you so calm about this?" Sam asks in a huff. How is he the only one who is falling apart here? "You don't let him get a bagel on his own when he is here. You follow him everywhere! But he is now in an actual active war zone, and you are -"

"Steve's never managed to go to the store and pick up some milk without picking a fight," Barnes interrupts him. "He needs watching here. A war zone is his natural habitat. He'll be fine. Here, eat this. You look terrible."

Barnes forces a half-crushed candy bar in Sam's hand. Sam resists the urge to throw it at his head.

"Honestly, Seaborn," Barnes drawls. "He'll come back here and be a pest before you know it."

"And if he doesn't?" 

"I may be ninety seven years old, but I am still not too old to pick a fight with God," he announces, sounding dead serious. "I didn't keep him alive through the flu, childhood asthma, scarlet fever and the goddamn war for him to die fighting the Taliban. I'll bring him back to life even if I have to die trying."  
  
*  
  
It's the President who tells him. 

Sam gets called into the Oval an hour after Barnes slips out. He walks the sixty three feet from Toby's office to the Oval with his heart thudding against his chest. Charlie ushers him inside right away, and nudges him into a chair in front of the desk. Trying not to rub his palms on his thighs, he waits for the President to hang up his phone call.

"Uh-huh," the President is saying into the phone, "Uh-huh. Yes. Yes. Alright. The hostages? Convey my thanks to the Prime Minister, and stand by for Leo. Yes. Thank you."

He hangs up, and leans against the desk, his hands in his pockets.

"Sam."

"Mr. President," he croaks out, terrified. "Mr. President, _please_ -"

"The Avengers are on their way back to the United States," the President answers his unasked question. "All seventy two hostages have been extracted securely. Most of them were given emergency medical attention on site, and are being sent to a military hospital in the UK before we bring them home."

"Sir -"

"The Captain is safe," President explains, and Sam can't stop the tears. He lets them flow down his cheeks, trying to keep his seat and not slip to his knees and send thanks to the universe. "He was injured. Three broken ribs, and several broken fingers. Some blood loss from a stab wound, and he took a couple of bullets. But I am told that most of these should heal before the plane reaches US airspace. That serum really must be something."

Sam takes several deep breaths, trying to process this information.

"He is okay," he breathes.

"More than okay, Sam," the President smiles kindly at him. "He is Captain America. He is on his way back. SHIELD will debrief him at their HQ, and I believe he will have to go through a medical evaluation before he sees visitors, but I will see what I can do for you. I have _some pull_ with this country's intelligence infrastructure, after all."

Sam can't stop the tears. He just can't. 

"Thank you, sir," he murmurs fervently. "Thank you."

"Now," the President puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I understand you have had a long day, so I am not going to bring up how you have been dating Captain America for nearly eight months and didn't tell me about it. But you can make it up to me later by bringing the man over for dinner. I have several questions I have been meaning to ask him about FDR."

Sam lets out a watery chuckle. Everything seems more amusing now, that they are on this side of the crisis and Sam has some certainty that his boyfriend (maybe?) will come home to him.

"Steve is very.. passionate about things, sir," he explains. Once you get Steve started about certain things, like unchecked capitalism, climate inaction or the lack of universal healthcare, it is very difficult to stop Steve from ranting his heart out. "You may not be able to restrict him to talking about just FDR."

"Even better!" the President beams. "Charlie! Find an evening on my schedule for next week and book Sam and the good Captain, will you? I need to hear some Great Depression stories. Boy, I heard he used to show up to the union protests in Brooklyn. He should write a book about that."

"I am sure there's a crying need for that," Charlie says, deadpan.

"Don't be a troglodyte, Charlie," the President tells him. "You should join us for this dinner. Maybe learn a thing or two."

"I can hardly wait, sir," Charlie snarks right back, and the President beams even wider. "CJ is outside."

"Send her in."

CJ steps inside, and gestures to Sam. "The car is here."

"Right," the President addresses Sam. "It's going to take you to SHIELD HQ. Go see him, take him home, and don't show up here for another day or two. Leo's told the Secret Service to not let you in. Go, go now."

"Thank you sir," Sam gets up and makes to follow CJ out of the room.

"Oh, and Sam," the President calls when Sam is almost at the door. "Thank the Captain for his service, will you?"

"I shall, sir."

CJ walks him back to Toby's office so he can grab his coat and wallet, and accompanies him to east exit. 

"I am really sorry I didn't tell you, CJ," he says truthfully. "I was getting around to it, I swear."

"I realized that," she admits. "Don't worry about that right now, okay? You take care of each other, and when you come back to work, we can come up with a strategy. Try not to get photographed with him in the meantime?"

"I'll do my best."

"I am really happy for you, Sam," she says, as he slides into the backseat of the car. "Now go get your man."  
  
*  
  
Sam Wilson greets him in the lobby of SHIELD HQ. 

"Hey," he smiles, "you look like crap."

"Where is he?" are the first words out of Sam's mouth.

"Easy, Abercrombie," Wilson puts an arm around Sam's shoulders. Sam tries to ignore that Stark is spreading around his nicknaming problem to the rest of the Avengers, "He's getting checked out in Medical. He's fine. The ribs were healed before we even landed. His shoulder healed around the bullet, so they just went in to get it out. They should be sealing him right about now."

Sam tries to say thanks, but he isn't confident he will get the words out.

"Okay," Wilson nudges him toward the elevators. "Okay, so maybe we put you in HQ next time there is a crisis, cause you look -"

"I am okay," Sam answers finally. "Please, I just want to see him."

"Yeah, here we are," Wilson directs him into the elevator and presses three. A finger print scanner activates beside the panel, and turns green when Wilson presses his thumb to it. They get out at the third floor. Sam follows Wilson down a short, brightly lit hallway into another secure room. 

When they enter, Sam barely registers everyone else. They are in a long room lined with hospital beds. Stark is sitting on the closest one, his legs dangling off the bed with Miss Potts fussing over him. The Iron Man armor is standing at their side like a protector. Romanoff and Barton are on the opposite bed, sitting cross-legged and going to down on a bag of skittles. Her arm is in a sling. Dr. Banner is sound asleep on another bed, his soft snores alternating with Thor's loud, growly ones. But Sam has eyes only for Steve.

Steve who looked up when Sam walked in, his expression ranging from surprise to happiness to smug contentment. He beams at Sam, but winces when the nurse at his side tugs at his bandage.

She finishes wrapping up the wound at his shoulder.

"You need to rest that for..a few hours, I guess," she tells him. "I wish everybody healed like you do, Captain."

"I get that a lot," Steve tells her, even though his eyes haven't left Sam's face. 

Sam takes a step forward, and then another, and then another, but before he knows it, the distance between them falls away, because Steve is on his feet and is meeting him halfway. Sam reaches with both hands to cup Steve's face and kiss him, long and deep. The choking sob that he's been suppressing for over twenty four hours finally makes its way up his throat. When they separate, Sam clutches Steve's SHIELD undershirt and cries into his chest.

"Hey," Steve sounds dazed but tugs Sam close, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist, "I am okay."

Sam understands, but hours of terror are giving way to surging relief and he needs to cry it out. Steve probably understands what Sam isn't capable of right now, so he manoeuvres them to the closest bed, sitting on it and pulling Sam up on to his lap. Sam willingly climbs on, his face now buried in Steve's neck, his folded knees on either side of Steve's waist on the bed.

"Shhh," Steve whispers into his hair, "I am okay. Did nobody update you? I was okay."

"You - _hic_ \- volunteered! - _hic_ \- to go - _hic_ \- to the Taliban!"

"They were going to hurt civilians," Steve explains. "It's okay, Sam. Shhh."

Sam looks up, teary eyed, and cups Steve's face in his hands again. "I am sorry."

"Sam -"

"No," Sam interrupts. "Let me get this out, because I have been practicing in my head for four days now. I am sorry. I didn't mean it. I am not ashamed of you, or our relationship. You are not my dirty little secret, and I don't want there to be any boundaries between us."

"Then why -"

"Because I was scared, Steve!" Sam confesses. In the world of twenty four hours ago, getting the words out would have been terrifying to Sam, but he has lived through worse in the intervening hours. "This is my first serious relationship with a man," he admits in a small voice. "I was scared. I am not used to wanting someone like this."

"I thought you didn't want me," Steve says in a small voice.

"Steve," Sam holds on to him, wanting to never let go, "I was terrified of how much I wanted you. I think of my future, and you're all I see."

"You are all I see in mine, too."

"I never meant to hurt you," Sam explains. "I write speeches for a living and I'm bungling this one up, but Steve, you have to understand. You're Captain America. You can decide tomorrow to up and leave to New York. You can have Tony Stark send you strippers at his parties -"

"I _hate_ Tony's parties," Steve looks at him, like he can't believe what he is hearing.

Both of them ignore the offended ' _HEY_!' from behind them.

"- if you decided to leave tomorrow, I'll barely make a dent in your world," Sam continues. "I couldn't imagine getting in that deep to find out you didn't want me back. I was trying to protect myself, and I didn't realize that it was already too late. Steve -"

"How could you think -"

"I am in love with you," Sam tells him, because he needs to get the words out. "I love you."

Steve smiles at him, his eyes filled with some indescribable emotion, something deep and profound and joyous. 

"I love you too," he says right back, his right hand in Sam's hair, holding him close.

"Now is when you kiss him, you idiot," Stark says from behind Sam.

Steve, instead of glaring at Iron Man decides to obey him, kissing Sam full on the mouth, tongue plundering and demanding and stubborn. Sam provides access, kissing back, pressing close, trying not to let even an inch of Steve go without contact.

When they pull apart, Sam is out of breath and seeing stars. Steve, with his serum enhanced lung capacity, looks beautifully disheveled. 

"We're going to talk about this some more," Steve whispers into Sam's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "but I would prefer to do it when I have had a shower and we don't have three of my teammates staring at us." Stark sniggers behind them but is promptly hushed by Pepper.

"I have got something to tell you," Sam says. _In for a penny.._

"Seaborn," Romanoff says from her spot on the bed. "It's his choice."

"I am not keeping this from him!" Sam snaps at her.

"Keep what from me?"

Sam turns back to Steve. "Home first, and then some sleep," Sam orders. "If I am right, and I think I am, the explanation I owe you will be sitting on my living room couch in.." he says the last part really loudly, sure that the Winter Soldier is probably sneaking around somewhere in the building, "oh say, eight hours."

"Are you alright, Sam?" Steve asks, feeling Sam's forehead with a palm.

"Never better," Sam kisses him again. "Let's go home."  
  
*  
  
Eight hours and two bouts of enthusiastic make up sex later, Steve pulls on a robe and steps into the living room. 

Sam follows behind him, moving to the kitchen to call for pizza. 

"Five large pizzas for _one_ super solider," he mutters to himself. "So ten for two, with a regular sized one thrown in for the regular human." He picks up the phone, just as Barnes says, _"Hi Steve,"_ in the living room.  
  
~

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple more ideas before I finish this series. Two readers gave me prompts, and I will be filling them before we are out. Feel free to leave me more prompts in the comments! Would love to hear what you think. 
> 
> I never expected people to follow along with this series when I started writing Sam Seaborn/Steve Rogers. Thank you for proving me wrong.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr.](https://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com/)


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